There You Stand

by Christina Lee

  “You sound like her.” Elias firmly grasped the back of his head. “You even look like her. Mi cielo.”

  My entire body stiffened at his words. The nickname that Jude told me Elias had used for his mother.

  “You killed her,” Jude bit out.

  “All your doing,” he said. “She’d still be alive if you hadn’t run from me. Straight into Malachi’s arms. His sins are probably bigger. Such a shame.”

  I looked up at Malachi, who scowled in disgust.

  “Motherfucker,” I bit out and Smoke stared at me, mercy in his eyes.

  Jude violently shook his head. “My mother started dying the moment she let you into her life. You were slowly killing her every single day, you bloody bastard.”

  His words had definitely gotten to Elias because he slapped Jude across the face and I leapt from my chair, as if this was happening in real time.

  “I’d love to kill you, too,” Elias said, spittle flying in Jude’s face. “And maybe I’ll get the chance someday.”

  “Whoa, hold the fuck on.” Malachi’s booming voice could be heard from the screen. “Nobody’s touching one of ours. That boy’s already got enough scars on him to prove what you can do. We’re not into torturing our recruits. And we don’t plan on messing this deal up.”

  A shiver raced across my shoulders as Elias sneered at the camera.

  “Jude, now’s the time to calm the hell down,” Malachi said in a softer voice. “Everything is cool on our end. Everyone will be safe in a little while. You feel me? It’ll all be done and over with.”

  Jude looked directly at the monitor as if he were staring straight into my eyes, and it hit me then that Malachi was sending him a veiled message. About me. The last time Jude had seen me, I had fallen off the wakeboard and landed in the lake. I didn’t know if he ever saw me emerge from the water after they’d gotten him onto the boat.

  Jude nodded and shut his eyes, relief evident on his face.

  Smoke froze the recording on that image and I had to look away or my heart would slam straight through my chest.

  Alex rounded toward me. “We suspect he’s on a large cruiser somewhere out on the lake.”

  I closed my eyes, unable to shake what I had just witnessed.

  “What’s to keep Elias from k . . . killing Jude?” I asked, swallowing.

  “He does, he has bad blood with two clubs,” Smoke said. “He won’t want that.”

  I nodded.

  “Did anything register for you?” Alex asked. “Have any clues at all where he might be holding him?”

  I stared up at the monitor and took in the room where Elias was keeping Jude captive. Paneled walls, rounded windows. I racked my brain for a couple minute before my shoulders slumped and I shook my head.

  “Fuck,” I said, my face falling into my hands.

  “It’s okay, Cory,” Alex said. “It was worth a shot.”

  Smoke turned off the TV and we headed out of the room. I noticed Chopper was outside running along the back property and wondered if he was missing Jude as much as I was.

  “You probably need to lay back down,” Smoke said. “The painkillers the doc prescribed are on the nightstand.”

  I nodded numbly and walked down the hall, my head and spine throbbing with each step. No way I was going back to sleep, but I needed time alone to think.

  After my head hit the pillow, I stared up at the ceiling, and went over the recording step by painful step. The way Jude looked, how he responded when Elias was speaking to him. I wanted to nail that motherfucker to the wall as much as Alex did. Probably even more.

  And then I shot straight up in bed and scrambled to anchor my feet on the ground.

  When I stumbled back into the great room, all eyes shot to me.

  My gaze landed on Alex as I hobbled toward him. “What is it, Cory?”

  “It’s probably nothing—”

  “We’ve got nothing at this point, so—”

  “That phrase he used. Elias,” I said. “Mi cielo. Jude said he called his mother that all the time. That he was obsessed with her.”

  “What does it mean?” Malachi asked.

  “It means my heaven,” Alex said, as he rubbed his fingers across his chin.

  “I just thought . . . if he was so into her and she betrayed him by letting Jude escape . . .”

  “Go on,” Alex said.

  “I don’t know, maybe there’s a memoriam of her somewhere. A play on her name, initials, her nickname . . . that he uses or keeps or . . . God, I don’t know.”

  Alex bolted out of his seat, grabbed his coat, and was already dialing his cell. “Like maybe on the side of a boat. I’m on it.”

  Alex strode out the door and Malachi stared after him, his eyebrows scrunched together. “Huh,” he said.

  Smoke clapped me on the back. “Might be worth something, Cory.”

  I nodded and then turned again toward the hallway, this time the bed calling to me. I lay awake for some time, my eyes burning holes in the plaster, until exhaustion consumed me.

  ***

  “Cory,” I heard a muffled voice in my ear.

  I squinted through one eye.

  Smoke was leaning over me. “They got him.”

  Both eyes sprang open. “What do you mean?”

  “Your clue hit pay dirt,” he said. “The feds scoped out all the local marinas and eventually found a cruiser anchored a few miles off the coast. Name on the side of the boat was My Slice of Heaven.”

  “No shit?” I said.

  “No shit,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

  “Jude—” I struggled to sit up but Smoke held my shoulder down.

  “He’s being debriefed by the feds. He’ll be here in a couple of hours. You get some rest so you can be there for him when he returns.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “He’ll be fine.”

  ***

  When I woke up it must’ve been hours later given the sliver of moonlight I now spotted through the thin curtains.

  My throat felt itchy and raw and when I coughed, something heavy shifted at my feet. Ace readjusted himself at the end of the bed and then I felt Patch’s downy hair against my arm.

  Vaughn must’ve brought my dogs to me. When the hell had that happened? And where was Chopper?

  Though my head felt as if it were sitting in a pressure tank, I attempted to push up on my elbows. It was then that I heard someone stir in close proximity. Was I under guard or something?

  It took me another moment to acclimate myself to the room and remember exactly what had gone on earlier in the day. Or was it yesterday?

  “Oh God, Jude,” I said and bolted up, causing my muscles to revolt against me. My pulse roared in my ears wondering whether I had only dreamt that conversation with Smoke. “Fuck.”

  “I’m here.” At hearing Jude’s voice I almost sprang out of my skin.

  He was sitting in the chair across the room, the glimmer of a moonbeam washing across his cheeks. Chopper lay on the couch next to him.

  “When did you . . . ?” When I tried to place my feet on the floor, the whole room swayed and I shut my eyes to regain my balance.

  But I didn’t give a fuck about my head; I needed to get to Jude. “Are you . . . ?”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Elias is dead.”

  Dead. As dead as Jude’s voice and maybe his eyes, if I could only see them from this distance. Would they be flat and inert pebbles, the way they looked when he shut the world out?

  “How is he dead?” I asked, sinking one foot to the floor.

  He shrugged. “He went for his gun but Alex was quicker.”

  My pulse spiked imagining the ordeal Jude must’ve gone through in the past twenty-four hours.

  “Why are you all the way over there?”

  “Your head—” He blew out a breath and I noticed how weary his features looked. How his body was slumped in the cushion with exhaustion. “I . . . I was just . . . they said you ne
eded to rest.”

  “So do you,” I said.

  “Alex said that you helped locate us,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “Please, Jude,” I said. “I need you over here. In bed with me. Let me hold you.”

  Gingerly he rose from the chair and staggered across the room, as if he’d sink through the floor at any moment. He discarded his pants and shirt and crawled in the sheets next to me. My face immediately nuzzled the side of his neck, my hands reaching for his shaved head, and I nearly wept from relief.

  Still, my stomach was in my throat because something was definitely wrong.

  Maybe he was in shock. Or numb. Maybe he needed time to process everything that had happened.

  “Jude . . .”

  “Shhh . . .” he said, laying his head on my chest. “Please don’t. We’ll talk later. Now I only want to sleep.”

  “Okay,” I whispered. I weaved my fingers through his and he let out a soft breath. Within minutes we were both dozing.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  We slept for several hours twisted around each other. Smoke had arrived the following afternoon and told us that all was cool. He suggested we stay at the cabin for a couple more days to recover. In fact, he insisted we do so to allow all the dust to settle.

  As a show of good faith, Malachi had still given Elias’s organization—what was left of them—proof that he had destroyed the evidence, so that they didn’t suspect the Disciples’ involvement with the feds. I’ll admit, that information stunned me.

  And when I looked at Jude, at the intensity in his eyes, he also understood with far more gravity that lives were put on the line to not only take down his stepfather, but to save Jude as well.

  Jude spoke to Alex while I called my boss, telling him I was sick and asking for a couple more days off. Then I talked to my grandmother and told her that Jude and I had gone out of town for the weekend and had taken the dogs. She could tell there was something more to my story but she didn’t push for information.

  As the day lapsed into night, I felt better. My head was merely a dull ache and the painkillers were helping. Jude stayed quiet and remote, as if he had curled up inside of himself. I didn’t want to force him to talk because even though I saw no visible signs of injury besides his battered cheek, I knew that what he’d gone through must’ve been emotionally distressing.

  The dogs played; we walked along the property to get some fresh air, and had barely spoken two words. It was like being back at square one with Jude. And I didn’t have the wherewithal or guts to drag anything out of him. Deep down I was terrified to know what was going on inside his head, because I could only imagine the posttraumatic feelings that Jude was facing. I heard when Alex had told him that he might feel down or anxious and then had given him a number to call should he need to speak with a trauma expert.

  As we got ready for bed, it felt like we were going through the motions. When he lay beside me and stared up at the ceiling, it seemed like we only coexisted. Though we still reached wordlessly for each other in the middle of the night, this felt different. More desperate. Despondent. A last-ditch attempt to cling to something normal, something real. But nothing was normal. And I questioned whether or not it would ever be normal again.

  By the following night, I had convinced myself that Jude was gearing up to tell me something. To tell me we were over. After all we’d been through.

  Now that the threat was finally gone and we could live out in the open, we were finished. Maybe he wanted to start a new life someplace else, far away from the people who used him as a pawn. Maybe it would help him finally feel free. To at least breathe more freely.

  Perhaps he felt guilty that I’d been waiting on him and now he wanted to leave. The fear of hearing those words from him was so enormous; it felt like a lead weight pressing directly on my chest and crushing my soul.

  After another quiet night sitting on the back porch, Jude finally looked at me. Really looked at me. As if seeing me for the first time. As if he’d stumbled out of a dense fog.

  “What’s wrong?” he said, shocking me out of my own head.

  “I . . . what do you mean?” I mumbled. “Nothing.”

  “Then why haven’t you tried talking to me?”

  “What?” I said, completely confounded by his question. “I was just giving you space. Time.”

  “Give it to me straight,” he said and there was a steely resolve in his eyes.

  It seemed as if a full minute had gone by as we stared each other down.

  “I guess . . .” I swallowed roughly. “Guess I was just preparing myself.”

  The hands on his lap turned into tight fists. “For what?”

  I broke eye contact with him and studied the floor. “For you to tell me good-bye.”

  His shut his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. “Why the bloody hell would you say that?”

  “Thought maybe you want to start off fresh. New town, new people. I might remind you too much. . . .” I sucked air through my nose. “I can take Chopper. You can make a different life for yourself.”

  He stood up suddenly and stalked over to me. “Do you know what I was thinking about when Elias was holding me prisoner?”

  I lifted one shaky hand to my hair. “I can only guess . . . I was afraid you were going to find a way to . . . to . . . after what you told me about never being hurt by him again . . .”

  “Fucking Christ.” He knelt down in front of me, his hand reaching for mine. “I thought about you. Hoping you were all right. That you were waiting for me. Hoping like hell you were waiting for me.”

  My breaths were harsh and choppy.

  “I was thinking that since my mum was killed, I haven’t belonged anywhere. To anyone,” he said. “And there you stand. Like the keeper of all of my dreams. And suddenly there’s someplace I desperately want to belong.”

  I felt a tear roll down my cheek and he swiped it with his thumb.

  “Goddamn, Cory.” He rushed his fingers through my hair. “I imagined what you were going through and how it would be so much worse if I . . . if I . . . So the thought of you waiting for me kept me going.”

  I bit my lip hard, trying to keep all of my emotions in check. So that I didn’t slide to the floor in a boneless heap.

  “And when Malachi told me you were okay, I felt such bloody relief,” he said, closing his eyes. “But then I instantly felt fear. That you . . . that all of this was too much for you . . . that maybe you didn’t want me—this—after all. The guilt of everything I’d put you through completely paralyzed me.”

  That was why he hadn’t been responsive to me. I was waiting on him and he was fucking waiting on me. Goddamn it.

  “Jude—”

  “Thing is,” he said, cutting me off. “I’d go through it all over again if it meant I got to have you.”

  His head sank to my lap and I heard a whimper burst from his throat. I burrowed my fingers in his scalp as he opened the floodgates and finally allowed himself to cry.

  For himself. His sister. His mother.

  His shoulders shook as he wept openly. As if he’d been holding it in for years.

  I looked up at the stars in the night sky and thanked the universe for bringing this incredible man into my life.

  “Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” I said, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him into my chest. “I want to be with you so badly it physically hurts.”

  “I need you to show me,” he said, grabbing my face and smashing his lips against mine. There was an overwhelming desperation in that kiss and I felt it so viscerally, like a direct blow to my gut. “Show me I belong to you. Please fucking show me, Cory.”

  And then realization dawned on me. I understood what he wanted and what he needed. I stood and pulled him with me, gathering his face, and devastating his mouth with a deep and bruising kiss.

  I led him to the bedroom and took my time undressing him, feathering tender kisses over every part of his beautiful body. I got him ready for me. M
y mouth was on his cock. My fingers were in his ass. My heart was in my throat. I was nearly blinded by how profoundly I wanted him. In my life. Forever.

  I laid him on his back and knelt between his legs.

  I rolled on a condom and slicked it with lube. He lifted his knees as I pressed inside of him. Slowly and deeply I filled him as his nails embedded into my thighs. I nipped and kissed his neck and shoulders and lips, relishing the moans emitting from his throat.

  “You belong to me,” I growled between quick and shallow thrusts. “And I belong to you.”

  He trembled and studied my face, as if searching for the truth inside my eyes. I sank down on my forearms, my choppy breaths against his lips, as I continued to plunge inside, filling him up with everything I had.

  “You fucking mean everything to me.” I roughly kissed his lips. “And you’re all mine.”

  I tried not to focus on how tight and hot he was. How painfully hard I was. How close I was to losing my mind and coming undone inside of him.

  This was about him. Giving him what he needed. And right then he needed me.

  I captured a patch of skin at the hollow of his throat, marking him with my lips and teeth and tongue. I bit and licked my way down his collarbone and sucked on his nipples until he thrashed and moaned. Clutching his cock between us, I pumped him solid and steady.

  “I love you, Jude York,” I whispered as he shuddered beneath me and blew apart so hard, his teeth were clattering.

  ***

  The next morning, Jude joined me on the porch with a fresh cup of coffee.

  “It’s nice out here,” I said, looking toward the woods. “Do you miss living in the countryside?”

  “Sometimes,” he said. “But I’d miss the concrete, too.”

  “Bet you would, Mr. Daredevil.”

  When he finally smiled at me after such a long stretch, I thought my chest would burst open with relief.

  We took the dogs in the yard and threw them the ball for a long while until there was a rumble of thunder and we both arched our heads toward the sky.

  Then he kissed me, soft and slow, his lips tasting mine—top and then bottom. His mouth was warm and gentle, almost cautious. Like he was showing me how much everything meant to him.